Shooting Stars
by Sephielya J. Maxwell
Summary: Near the end of WWII, the Germans were pursued all the way back into their homeland by the Russians they had invaded. During this time, Lithuania decides to make his escape from German influence.


Everything was deathly quiet, but the air was filled with debris so thick that he could breathe it in, forcing him to double over and cough. The entire structure around him shook again, and for a moment he feared that the entire shell of a building would collapse. Scraped and bleeding hands didn't register any pain as he gripped the windowsill and the wall for balance. Suddenly he could hear the sound of broken glass crunching as he shifted his feet under him for a better stance. His hearing was coming back to him, but it brought back with it the full harshness of his surroundings. The shell had landed so close that he had watched the very casing disintegrate just an instant before the bright light had nearly blinded him.

The old building he found himself hiding in could barely be called that anymore. Not even three stories tall, he resided on the top floor which no longer had a roof at all. All of the windows had been blown out, thankfully before he had chosen it as a hideout, and the entire left side was drooping. Pulling himself back up to the window, he looked out into the dark streets again.

The Germans were outflanked, out gunned, and definitely outmanned. Blood stained the pavement like bright paint, even in the cloudy darkness. Just days ago the warning had come; the Red Army was advancing at a terrifying rate. That Russian mentality of throwing everything you had in order to win. Of course that pertained to Ivan as well. The largest nation was no doubt giving everything of himself to this daring offense… Guilt swam in the pit of his stomach—or maybe it was just his current state physical exhaustion catching up to him. He'd thought that he was doing the right thing by leaving Ivan's house. That Germany would keep their promise, no matter how unfair to Toris and his brothers—How _very _unfair it was for Feliks… But Ludwig had only given him that sad and resilient expression as he told him that he was now a protectorate—a likely word for future annexation. Again, _again _he had chosen the wrong savoir…

He wanted to close his eyes to all of it—he didn't want to see Ludwig's dead children any more than he wanted to see his own back home. But if he closed them he would only see the terror that he'd witnessed even there. The trains, the barbed wire, the _fires _and the _smell… _Covering his mouth with one dry and filthy hand, he fought not to heave. The sound of guns had gotten quieter—farther away. Frantic German had been replaced by sharp calls in Russian, and he lowered his hand to lean forward a little. The voices became quieter, and it was only then that he heard it. A high, quiet sound… Almost like a whistle. A whi—!

Bright light and a deafening sound flooded his senses again, and Toris was thrown back against the cracking wall of the building's remains. The ceiling came down in heavy chunks as the air was flooded again with smoke and debris, causing him to cough again, covering his mouth as he squinted. The entire floor shifted violently to the right, and he grabbed onto the windowsill again as not to slide with it. He cried out when he felt a bit of remaining glass slice into his fingers, but if he let go now…! There was another crash of debris, but this one was from the sound of heavy footsteps and protesting groans as weight was distributed unevenly on the failing building. He held his breath as realization hit him like cold water to his chest. Someone was hiding in here with him?

_No, _he wanted to scream, _get out! It's falling, and if you don't—! _

Emerald eyes widened as he saw the shapes—no, one shape move within the cloud of dust and dirt. What—what were they doing _up here_? _Down, _they should be going _down_! He opened his mouth to shout, but the structure shifted again, the building's drooping side falling completely. It was only a matter of moments before the rest of it gave…! Another bright light from above sparked into being, and for an instant the brunette feared it was another bomb… But it stayed, hanging in the air as if suspended in time as the structure trembled underneath him, hard enough to make his bones ache.

From the darkness near the end of the floor still mostly upright, along the wall which he had been pressed against, a shadow lifted as if from the floor its self. The bright light above and the thick cloud around them made it impossible to make out any features—but there were unspeakably _tall _for a German soldier…

"_Eto tam_!" The voice, Russian tongue, reached his ears somehow, just before another explosion happened some ways away. Closing his eyes, he heard several loud groans of the buildings protests as the person moved.

_Please don't shoot me, _he thought desperately. While it wouldn't kill him, it didn't mean it ever hurt any less. A heavy thud shook the floor under him, and he felt the building sway. Opening his eyes, he held his breath as an unmistakable silhouette loomed over him, his hair shining like a halo with that bright flare behind him. The figure's scarf whipped into frenzy by the wind, he felt it brush his face, hard enough to sting and yet the softest thing he'd felt in days.

"_Iva_—!" His voice was cut off as he was lifted effortlessly from his desperately clinging position and tossed carelessly over one broad shoulder. Fingers curled into the tattered length of a coat, closing his eyes tightly as the Russian stepped up onto the crumbling windowsill. Before Toris could even give a cry of dismay, he suddenly felt completely weightless as Ivan jumped…

They landed with a crash, shadowed by the sound of the collapsing building from behind them which covered everything in rubble and dust. The weight of his own body coming down on that shoulder he rest over was enough to make him see bright flashes of pain which looked suspiciously like the flash of yet more artillery and bombs. He swore he felt something in his chest crack, coughing and feeling the wetness on his lips as he felt his head grow heavy. There were voices speaking in Russian before the building was even done falling, and the sound of gunfire. He couldn't do it any longer, he couldn't hold on…

Sweet darkness flooded his vision, and blessed silence welcomed him to sleep.

* * *

There were sounds in the distance, voices close and the tatter of guns further away. Now and then there was a heavier; louder noise as a bomb or shell made contact with its target of brick or hard cement, and he'd be willing to bet took several lives with its light. But everything was still so dark; he didn't _want _to be awake… He swallowed, feeling the grit and dirt from the past several days grinding together in the back of his throat as he did. He felt the cough building up in his chest, an unavoidable tingle which became a horrible itch… Rolling over into his side, he gave in to the urge, grabbing his ribs and whimpering in pain as he hacked. Any human would be dead by now if they'd breathed in as much chaos as was in his lungs, he was sure... His hand touched scratchy cloth over warm skin, and he realized that his uniform was absent. So was his shirt, and judging by the breeze under the light covering of the sheet over him so was everything else.

A hand touched his shoulder, rolling him onto his back with a simple push. Something was set against his lips, and he coughed as luke-warm water flooded his mouth. With great patience it was pulled away until he breathed again and the second time it was offered he was prepared. Sweet, clean liquid slid down his parched throat as he drank in gulp after gulp. Only when it was pulled away did he open tired green eyes, blinking in the dim light as the face above his own came into focus. Blond hair and violet eyes, and as always, that smiling expression…

"Iva—" His voice cracked, and the Russian chuckled. "Where…"

"Did you see them, Toris?" Ivan asked him suddenly, his voice almost… excited. The brunette frowned, unable to comprehend exactly _what _he was supposed to have seen. He'd seen _too much… _"You did, didn't you?"

"I-I don't…"

"The _stars, _Toris. They're hard to miss." Ivan frowned a little, sitting back. The smaller nation shifted in the bed, pressing on one hand to push himself up. The hand against the bed sent a jolt of pain up through his arm, and his other hand went to his ribs as the sheet slid down to his waist. "Careful now!" Ivan chided, touching his un-bandaged shoulder with surprising gentleness to stop him from moving further. "We don't have many supplies, but I made them give me enough to help you." He explained simply, that smile never fading. Toris glanced down at himself to see that his sliced fingers and his ribs were bandaged. There was gauze on his forehead where he could remember a piece of shrapnel cutting him the night before, and one on his thigh as well…

"My clothes…"

"I'm afraid we had to lose them." The first hint of irritation touched that soft voice as Ivan tilted his head to the left. Following the indication, the smaller nation saw the pile of filthy clothes bundled up in the corner of the room. Taking a better look around, he saw that he was in what seemed to be another abandoned building. There was no telling what it had been, but the room was small and the cot he laid on currently was not originally a part of it. The Russian himself sat on a stool, his knees spread wide to stay on the low-resting object. His coat was dirty and tattered in some places, boots caked with mud and filth, but his scarf seemed somehow untouched. His eyes were weary, but his smile… "But it's alright; I found you some new ones."

Ivan reached down to the end of the cot, showing the brunette the folded uniform there before he dropped it again. The reddish stain by the collar made the smaller nation feel sick, but he resisted it. They fell into silence again, listening to the dim, dented lantern flickering on and off now and then amidst the sound of gunfire in the distance. Toris gathered his breath again, his good hand clenching the sheet over him. "Ivan, I…"

"You still haven't answered me, Toris." The Russian's voice came back, its tone as cheerful as before. "The stars, did you see them?" The question was posed again, but Toris was still confused. He hadn't seen the stars for days, spending most of his nights hidden in the basements of buildings he didn't think the soldiers would lurk into. And even today he'd only seen the cloudy skies, marred by so much debris on top of weather. Perhaps it would _rain, _and then the _blood _would be washed away…

"I-I haven't seen them." He said in a horse voice, covering his eyes with his un-bandaged hand, his right. Ivan wasn't happy with this answer however, and a strong grip encircled his wrist and tugged. "A-ah, Ivan…!" He protested as he was pulled to his uneasy feet, the sheet falling away to leave him bare. Cheeks flooded with heat, but the Russian only laughed at him.

"No one's going to see you, they're all busy." He said with a grin as his eyes lingered on that bruised and bandaged flesh. They pulled away somewhat reluctantly as he pulled the smaller nation towards the window. He scooted away the broken glass with one heavy boot, tugging Toris up close. Ivan's coat scratched at his skin, and he bit his lower lip as he glanced franticly down. Indeed the streets seemed empty below them, and though they seemed to be on only a second floor, he could barely see the ground as it was… There was a flash of light, and Ivan gave a sound of amazement.

"Ah, ah, look _up _Toris!" He said giddily, pointing with the hand not around the brunette's shoulders. The smaller nation swallowed, looking up as told. What he beheld was another suspended light, a…

"It's a flar—"

"Look look, another one! Do you see it?" Ivan wasn't listening, smiling in almost childish glee as he watched the flares go up in the distance. One of them came up closer, and he gave a small hum. "I was looking for you, you know… I felt you up there, but I couldn't see. I wanted a light, and suddenly, the star came. A shooting star… and I saw you." The arm about his shoulders held him tighter as Toris watched the flare, unable to see past the light. There were no stars here… Only these false ones. His eyes traveled downwards, and he felt his stomach lurch. One would think that after you'd seen so much carnage, it would get easier to bear, but… This wasn't even comparable to the battles of old, fought with swords and spears. And this wasn't the mud-covered trenches or the first war, either; every body covered and buried almost as soon as they fell.

"Ivan…" Toris' head felt light, and the larger nation caught him as he leaned heavily on him. The blond only smiled as he lifted him into his arms, carrying him back over to the cot. Laying him out, he brushed those bangs back carefully, that smile slowly fading. Toris was actually relieved to see it go, his pulse already racing out of worry. He knew what these wars did to Ivan, how much of his struggling sanity they seemed to take… He often felt as if even when Ivan was feeling completely sane, that he might consciously slip from sanity in order to hide the pain. "Ah… I—_mmh…_" Eyes widened as those dry, warm lips pressed over his own, his body going rigid. But slowly… he began to relax. Eyes closed, Toris returned the kiss.

How long had it been…? Surely it had been years… He couldn't even remember how long he had spent in Ludwig's house. Days blended and blurred, trapped behind the walls of his own home, and then the German's. All the while knowing how the Russian must _hate _him… But this, this wasn't _hate _at all… This was a blessed relief from all of the pain, the suffering. All of the death and the chaos below them—he could _hear _it for God's sake…! The hail of gunfire, the bombs destroying homes and businesses, killing the very livelihood of thousands of humans…! The children of nations…

The cot creaked as Ivan's knee joined him, protesting the considerable weight. But it held, somehow, and the blond's hand came up to cup Toris' cheek. The kiss broke, leaving the both of them panting as the Russian sat back to work on ripping open his coat. It fell to the floor in seconds, and Toris' hands were helping him with his shirt in the next few.

_What's wrong with me_? Toris wondered to himself. It was with a muted kind of alarm that it came to him, the simple thought that; _Oh… Ivan's insanity must be catching._

And perhaps that was all there was to it. But the fact of the matter was that they were here, _now, _and _very much alive… _No matter the pain, and devastation inflicted on their people, only they would stand in the end of things. A war guided by their bosses, wiping out thousands—millions of lives in an instant. In only a hundred years from now, only faint scars would remain. So was it _really _so wrong…?

Lips met again, sealed tight against one another despite the taste of blood which found its way in, and the sting on the corner of Toris' mouth. Right now, he just wanted to be _loved… _And judging by the rapid beating of Ivan's heart underneath his bare chest that Toris' palm rest again, so did Ivan. The cot groaned again as Ivan shifted to remove his boots in a hurry as the brunette's hands worked on his pants. And finally they were both naked; the Russian for once completely devoid of any self-conscious fears as he loomed over the smaller nation; breath heavy and eager.

He groped clumsily along the floor for a moment, lifting up the tube of medical cream with a half-wondering expression on his face. "It'll suffice…" Toris agreed with a quick nod, licking his kiss-swollen lips. Ivan fumbled with the cap of it for a moment, popping it off to land somewhere in the darkness of the room. He smiled in triumph as he squeezed it onto his fingers, as the sound of planes began in the distance. "Ah, _hurry…_" Toris prompted with a groan, grasping at the Russian's arms. If the planes came now, this place could be leveled! He gasped as the first finger slipped inside, gritting his teeth against the strangeness of it. The medicine was oily, almost sticky, but at least it was slick. Though it _had _been a while for the smaller nation, which was only more apparent as the second finger joined the first, drawing out a low whine which was backed by the sound of heavy gunfire, which seemed closer than before.

"_Oh, please…_" Green eyes closed tightly, nails digging in to Ivan's shoulder now, careless of his injured one. The Russian's lips fell in sweet, wet kisses along his neck and shoulder, teeth biting here and there as he rose a few stinging marks. The air caused the saliva left behind to tingle, and Toris shuddered as he turned his head to the side, feeling the harsh fabric of the cot scratch his cheek—like it did his back under him. He didn't protest at all as the third finger entered him, though he clenched his jaw tightly against the sting. At least it was _medicine… _"_Ahh-ha…_!" Toris' back arched as he felt those clumsy and hurried fingers brush against his prostate, lips falling slack. If this was madness… He never wanted to leave it…

Over Ivan's shoulder, Toris could see the window. Another flare was floating there, as if watching them, suspended in the sky with its invisible strings—stopped in time… As if everything, even this war, was waiting for them. And he smiled, the first time he'd smiled in months… He gave a whine of loss as those fingers pulled back. Ivan's voice was husky and low, his breath tickling the brunette's ear as he panted, "_Ya tebya lyublyu, moy Toris_…"

"_As ta—aahh… haa_!" Toris' own words were lost as he felt the Russian's considerable length sliding into him. Head fell back into the cot as his back arched, exposing his throat to Ivan's attentions once again as the smaller nation's nails found purchase again. He gave himself to the larger nation's heavy thrusts, no matter the pain they brought along with their sweet pleasure. Because each thrust took him miles away from the increasing sounds of battle outside that window. The pulse of his own heart pounding in his ears was so much easier to listen to, and each rush of pleasure made him forget his every ache, including that his hand had bled through the bandage, smearing Ivan's skin with hot and sticky blood.

The Russian was none the wiser, or perhaps it just didn't bother him at all. Long and calloused fingers wrapped around the Lithuanian's neglected arousal, and Toris cried out as it was stroked. He was careless of his voice now—what reason did he have to hide it? They were alone here, as far as he was concerned… And just as quickly as their liaison had begun, it ended with a brilliant flash of light that, for one blissful moment, even took away all sound… Toris' seed was spilt over Ivan's stroking hand and his own stomach, as Ivan's was given deep inside of him.

Slowly, the noise of gunfire came back to them. It was closer now, and more persistent. Opening his emerald eyes, Toris could see that the flare had gone. His star had fallen, and time had started again… Ivan groaned on top of him, nuzzling into the Lithuanian's neck. Toris' right hand came up, fingers running through that sweat-damp hair. A pounding on the door startled him, but Ivan was unmoved. How… how long had they been there! They had to have been waiting… they had _heard…_! Toris hid his face into Ivan's shoulder, whimpering slightly. Hurried Russian words shouted through the door, sounding almost desperate. Toris recognized most of them; the Germans had broken through, and were on the offensive… Of course, they knew their own city best. When the footsteps had faded, Ivan gave a heavy sigh.

Toris groaned as the larger nation pulled out of him, biting his lower lip. The Russian sighed as the brunette's hands slid from his shoulders when he pulled away, cot creaking as he sat on the end of it. "…I have to go now." He said simply, averting his eyes as if embarrassed.

"…I know." Toris replied over the sounds outside. Grabbing the sheet, the blond wiped himself off, pausing when he saw the blood. Glancing down to Toris' unwrapped hand, he bent to grab a fresh roll of gauze. Handing it to the smaller nation, he bent to kiss him before he started to dress. The brunette sat up gingerly, pulling the sheet close to himself as he watched him. When he was dressed, he paused again, reaching down to gather the bloody bandage that had slipped from Toris' hand. Smiling, he slipped it into his pocket, and the smaller nation kept wisely silent. Turning his back to the other, Ivan spoke up again.

"I know you won't be here when I return." He said simply. Toris opened his mouth to speak, but Ivan continued before he could. "It's alright… I understand. You're tired, right? Go home… You'll need your rest. I'll come for you when I'm finished with Ludwig… I'll make him pay for hurting us, Toris." There was something in his tone that made the smaller nation shudder, biting his lip in order to hold his tongue. He left without another word, perhaps worried about what Toris _would _say if he got his courage back in time.

So as he feared, even after this much, Ivan wasn't going to let him go… There was little that he could do about that, but he wasn't going to be caught without a fight. Not even by Ivan. Re-wrapping his hand in the fresh gauze, Toris wiped himself down with the sheet as well. Standing up again, he glanced to the uniform that Ivan had left behind. It was clean enough, except for the blood near the collar… But, it was unmistakably _Soviet… _Toris closed his eyes, opening them a moment later to turn to the uniform in the corner instead. They were dirty, and somewhat torn, but… they were _his own. _Dressing as quickly as he could manage, he opened the door to from the room slowly.

All of the soldiers had gone, leaving the building as abandoned as it probably had been for weeks now. Still he used caution as he found the exit, slipping away into the street with all of the skill and caution that he'd been using these past few days, ever since Ludwig had lost control of him—and custody.

Violet eyes watched the smaller nation vanish into the dark of the city night now devoid of flares, keen enough to notice his choice of uniform. Pale lips pulled back into a smile as he waved, giving a small laugh. "Go, go," He whispered. "Hurry before I finish here… I'll give you a head start~." His head bowed a second later, as the building shook with the impact of a nearby mortar shell. "_First~_" He sang slightly, turning cold eyes to the side, where the battle was quickly rushing to meet him. "If you're _that _eager, I'll play with you first, Ludwig~."


End file.
